


Closeness

by TallysGreatestFan



Series: Body, Heart and Soul AU [3]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Rituals, Alien Sex, F/M, Minbari Sex Rituals, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallysGreatestFan/pseuds/TallysGreatestFan
Summary: Delenn and Lennier undergo their pleasure-seaking ritual._“Why did you come to this place?”“To give you pleasure, give you service, give you delight. If my lover wills, I will learn her centers of pleasure in respect and consent.”





	Closeness

**Closeness**

_Music: „Hey Now“ – London Grammar (the song actually goes through the whole trilogy – that was actually planed as a single long text)_

I close the door behind us, shield us from the world. Just now I was leading Lennier trough the people who will meditate in front of the room and testify how we undergo this next step. Yet with the closing of the door we are alone.

Of course I am more than aware of the witnesses, yet they don’t mean anything anymore. Now the Shan’Fal is only something between him and me.

It hardly seems like a big step to me. Knowing the deepest wishes, the most terrible mistake of the other, to be in a battle together and to see each other while possibly the last moments dawn, or to accompany me into the dreaming is so much more intimate than physical love.

And yet it means so much. I have undergone this ritual more than once and still my heart races so intensely that I can feel the beat in my throat and in my stomach and it halls in my ears. Is it because of what an incredible importance this must have for Lennier? Or during the circumstance that I, only Minbari to a half, much more human, will have it with an Minbari?

We sit down on the pillows and blankets I have laid out in front of the small altar. While Lennier waits quietly, I light the candles on the altar and dim the light with an soft English order.

I contemplate my arrangements. The slim, white candles cast shimmering reflections of their flames on the three-sided prism between them. Directly under the altar an bowl full of berries, red and glossy, and an high, water-filled glass stand. Handkerchiefs lie slightly hidden beside that.

With an fluid movement I return to Lennier, sit in meditation pose and close my eyes.

With every breath in and out I try to calm. It is quite except for his soft, even breath beside me. His thighs touch mine, and I feel his presence and his warmth.

My racing heartbeat and the nervous quivering in my soul calm bit by bit. As we speak some prayers together the repose almost reaches me. I know what to do. We are alone. This is my ritual.

It does so good to be able to speak my own language with my mate, not just English that I actually master fluently, yet that still nevertheless don’t really belongs to me.

Strange, how nervous I am still. Because I will for the first time since the transformation be with a Minbari again? What am I afraid of? The fear is vague.

My thoughts drift to Vir Cotto, who sits as witness in front of the room, because he is Lenniers best friend, and who probably feels incredibly embarrassed by all of this. Already in the midmorning he helped Lennier with the rituals his clan demands before the first Mer’Cha of an young man. It must have seemed decidedly strange for him, but he tried to comprehend the rites he had to help with in the absence of any support by Lenniers clan.

I dispel the thought and try not to think at the other witnesses. It would only enhance my nervousity. And maybe even bring me to ponder and doubt.

I breath in deeply, overcome myself and lay an hand on Lenniers sternum. I feel his heart beating against his chest heavily. As upright as he tries to hold himself, his gaze still trembles a bit and his hand against my chest moves nervously. He is untouched, this is his first time. He must be even more nervous than I. The thought calms me in a strange way.

“Why do you came to this place?”, I speak the traditional starting sentence of the ritual.

“To give you…pleasure, to give you service, to give you delight. If my… lover… wills, I will…”, his gaze flinches down, he mumbles the next words almost unhearably quietly to himself, “learn her… centers of pleasure… in respect and consent.”

Neverthless with the describtion of his light, hesitant voice lust flutters up in me.

“I want to.”

He needs a moment until his gaze dares itself up again and he can continue:

“Why did you come to this place?”

“To give you pleasure, give you service, give you delight.”, he shudders oh so lightly. The corners of his mouth twitch and fear and nervous arousal flash up in his eyes. “If my lover wills, I will learn his centers of pleasure in respect and consent.” I smile. He breathes in sharply.

“I want to.”, he manages to say.

Then I hand him the glass of water. He nips a small sip. As he hands it to me, our fingers brush. I drink too, and put the glass back.

Next I take one of the red berries and hold it in front of his mouth. His soft lips close around my Fingers, and I feel how his tongue grazes my forefinger. He looks me in the eyes, at the same time full of desire and submissiveness. His mouth is soft and warm and wet, an sweet promise. Until now I was to nervous to be truly aroused, yet now it reaches me with full strength. Heat shots trough my loins.

As I draw back my hand, he takes one of the red fruits in turn and offers it to me. I kiss his slender fingers, and then his palm. He closes the eyes. The fruit tastes sweet and nutty as I mash it with my tongue.

As we finally kiss, long and yearningly, it calms not only the desire of my body but also something deeper. His lips taste after the fruit too. He strokes my neck, ruffles trough my hair, and I let my fingers wander along his neck and then shoulders until the long vest. Slip it down. After that my hands come back to his neck, remain over the fastenings of his robe.

“E’ suur Ar’?”, I ask for his consent to continue.

“Vi’is”, he approves.

I smile and continue kissing him while I unbutton his robe and shove my hands slowly down his neck under the fabric. His skin is smooth and so warm.

“Sometimes”, he gives a shy, dreamy smile, “I still can hardly believe that it is real. And then I suddenly become aware that we truly do this right now, you and I, and that you truly choose me.”

Something inside me cramps. I don’t want to think about how much he has suffered. Not now.

“Yes.”, I respond smiling, and continue. Now he begins in turn, to unbutton my robe. It are only light touches, almost not to feel, as he opens the fastenings and his fingers dance over the naked skin underneath, no real caress, rather unintended touches, but my skin burns in desire just as much as if he would truly touch me.

I open his robe. It bares pale white skin and the line and speckles of light blue down his flat stomach. Alarming, that I am in truth surprised about seeing them, and not the body of a human. Have I moved away so much from my own species?

His gaze follows my hands, his chest raises and sinks hectic with his nervous breathing. I outline the stripe of exposed skin with my hands and then follow the swung of his collar bone, shove the robe wholy from his body.

For a moment it feels strange to touch him, my former attaché, my best friend, in this way, but the feeling flies away quite fast.

He frees himself in an slightly awkward movement of the sleeves and then holds his arms in front of his torso as if to cover himself. Yet as I look at him he takes them away. My gaze wanders over his narrow shoulders and his slender torso, almost to small and thin. But only almost. Wiry muscles show lightly at his arms and stomach, the blue speckles almost seem to glow against his pale white skin. He is not sexy in the way broad-shouldered, muscular human men are. He is beautiful in his own way. Sensual.

His gaze flutters over my upper body, over my plain blue favorite bra I wear because I feel comfortable in it instead of this silly looking half-sheer, uncomfortable lingerie-or-how-this-stuff-is-called that humans seem to find attracting for inexplicable reasons.

“Now is your active part.”, I instruct him.

“My?”, he seems puzzled.

“This isn’t about how solely one of us explores how they can give the other pleasure, or one of us is pleasured.”, I think at all the times that I tried to explain to him that he isn’t lesser worth than I am and that I want him as my equal and not just as my servant. How he replied horrified and disencouraged that he could never be equal to me and that this submissiveness would lay in his character, he could never fulfill my wishes if this would bother me. And how I finally replied, I knew what kind of person he were and that this would be nothing bad as long as he was aware that he deserved happiness and fulfillment of his needs too. I don’t want that he lowers himself like this.

“Your pleasure is just as important as mine.”

He nods and grins in an so cute, slightly overchallenged way that anew an longing shiver goes trough my loins.

With a few movements he is behind me and fumbles around at the fastenings of my bra.

“How can it be”, he mumbles after a while, ,,that I can repair half a dozen electrical devices but cant manage this?”

I laugh. It sounds strangely nervous. “You have to pull the eyelets in the respectively opposite direction.”

I hear him breathe in deeply, then he indeed manages to open the fastenings and pushes the bands over my shoulder. His fingers graze my skin oh so lighly. The bra falls into my lap, frees my breasts.

But Lennier does not start to touch them. He brushes trough my hair for a long time – it has something meditative, comfort-creating – and finally brushes them out of my neck.

Then he follows the light blue swirls and speckles down my spine with his fingers. This time it are harder touches, almost massaging. He traces the scar shortly over my pelvis that I still possess after I tried to throw John to the ground but the knife was faster. After that his fingers come back to the blue stripe over my spine.

My hips flinch invultarily as his hands come to lie shortly over my butt. But he just raises them again and starts to massage my shoulders.

“I am sorry that I am… so nervous.”

It is so relaxing how my muscles cramped after the exhausting work in the Interstellar Alliance loosen up a bit, that I react only after a few seconds.

I think at Neroon and me back then, and how nervous we were. Against that Lennier does very well. How can my childhood friend, lover, arch enemy be dead, only another person who died trough me? I still don’t understand it. Yet I don’t want to think at him.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Lennier. And I am actually nervous too.”

“You? Despite you being so… wise and experienced?”

I smile. “Yes, even I”

Finally he dares to let his hands slide down my flanks. And finally sits down in front of me.

He visibly has to overcome himself to look at my naked upper body. His gaze flutters and flinches away again and again. The blue speckles on his stomach have already grown darker on the edges and seem to glow all the more trough that. His lips are opened slightly. His gaze finally meets mine and slowly, hesitately, he lies his fingers on my shoulders and traces my collar bone, let them slide deeper, into the hollow between my breasts. Lastly he clasps them with his hands, and kneads. It is still hesitantly and softly, but it sends shivers of pleasure trough my chest. His palms graze my nipples and if sigh softly.

What beautiful hands, slender and delicate like those of a scholar and yet so strong.

Later he takes his hands off from me and strokes along the underside of my breasts with single fingers, and watches in wonder how my nipples become big and soft under his touches. His fingers graze an especially sensitive place on the underside of my left breast. The touch echos in my loins.

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”, he makes a soft, fluttering movement over the place. It feels so wonderful that I want to squirm out of the incredibly intense touch and press closer into it at the same time, “Yes, exactly there!”

Is he already hard? It is impossible that he isn’t if this arouses him just as much as me. But the style of his trousers prevents that I could perceive anything.

His cheeks blush as he notices my gaze, but I am not sure if from prudency or arousal, or both.

His other hand slides over my stomach, and strokes the few tiny blue speckles just over my pudenda that remained after my transformation. Where the rest once was only beige skin extends .

As he traces the swung of my hips I take my hands off of him and want to strip down trousers and underwear at the same time from my body.

Lennier hesitates.

“Is something?”

“I…”, he sounds ashamed and angry on himself, “I think I am not yet ready”, he breathes in quivering, “to see you completely naked. But I wont destroy the ritual because something like this now.”

“Lennier.”, I carass his cheek. The scars from the Interrogation of the Inquisitor still wriggle pale around my wrists like bracelets. “I wont do anything you don’t want to. And you don’t destroy the ritual with this. Why else should ‘E’ suur Ar’?’, a question after consent belong to it, would it be not permitted to answer it with yes?”

“But these people out there…”

“They don’t have to decide anything. It is our ritual, not theirs, and we can cancel it and continue to another time or simply continue like now.”

“If you want…”, he sounds unsure, yet finally he smiles mischiviously and touches me again. And I pull him to me, kiss him passionately and straddle his lap, legs spread wide. Oh yes, his Visil’rahan is definitely no more hidden inside his body. Trough the fabric I feel it wonderfully hard against my own centre of pleasure.

“Is that okay for you like that?”, I manage to ask. He looks at me with wide open eyes. His “Yes” sounds more choked and pleading this time. The still existing fabric of our trousers does not bother us the slightest. I grin hungrily, shift my position so that my Carem lies directly over the tip of his erection and move against him. He makes an wonderful, soft sound, no real moan yet, but just as arousing. And in this moment the last of his hesitation vanishes. He grabs my breasts and kneads, moves his body against me as much as his position allows him. I pull him closer to me, press my hands against his back, his chest and finally the beautiful blue line down his stomach, kiss eventually hard his neck and feel his slim, lithe body shudder. It feels familiar. I know already from the closer patterns of movement of the material arts training how it is to feel his firm, wiry body against mine, the moving of his muscles underneath my hands and against my body. Yet I have never felt him like this. His arousal against mine. His passion.

Desirous I breath in his scent. He smells cool and dry, after conifer wood forest or maybe rather like books.

I rub my hips harder and harder against him, panting and sighing with pleasure. He stares up to me, breathing hard, lips half open. His gaze is already unfocused, half lost in his lust. Another movement of my tongue against his neck, and he flinches and gasps sharply. I want to groan into his ear how wonderfully hard he feels and how wet he makes me, yet I am not sure if such explicit words would be to much for him yet.

“Can I… well, eh… try out something?”, he utters.

“Of course.”

He smiles, and looks despite what we are doing right now so damn alluringly innocent and shy, then he presses his lips against my neck. Sometimes he kisses me so fiercely that it hurts almost, sometimes his tongue flutters in tiny small movements over the place right below my ear. His hands wander down my back underneath the waistband of my trouser, stroke my butt.

“Lennier…”, I moan.

His expression becomes strangely enthralled and a bit disbelieving, as if he would have still until I called his name not believed that I have truly chosen him.

His hands close tighter around my ass and his tongue dances further over my neck and as I press myself against him for the next time in an already twitching movement I notice that I am close to coming.

So I let myself sink to the floor, pull him with me. He continues kissing my neck, yet suddenly he parts from me, stares slightly unsure on my body and then bends down to my breasts. I gasp sharply and arch my body towards him as he closes his lips around my nipple. He continues utterly self-lost, sends electric shivers trough my upper body. I grab his head, feel the warm ridges of his bone crest under my fingers and can hardly hinder myself to hold him then and there with violence. Instead I trace the blending between bone and skin with my fingers – he gasps against my skin – and behold his wiry back, the blue line along his spine and this sensual, narrow lips around my flesh, feel his tongue, his mouth on me. And then he looks up, looks directly into my eyes, so full of devotion and submissive lust… I can’t help but moan. He gasps too. His hand wanders down my stomach. How much I want these slender hands between my thighs…

I depart a bit from him to reach for his trousers, and as he does not oppose, stripe it down, so that he lies there only in underwear anymore. He has beautiful, slender but still well-trained legs. He wears wide, skirt-like underwear, but even that can’t hide his erection that presses against the light grey fabric. I can just control myself enough to not touch him. My active part in the ritual does not yet take place.

He grins nervously, but relaxes under my appreciative gaze and continues to kiss my breasts.

It feels so damn good that I arch my head back and shudders run trough my body.

His hand is under the fabric of my trousers again, at my pelvic bone, on my thigh.

“Can I now?”, I ask a bit out of breath, fingers on the waistband.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, tentativeness overcomes me. It is unfounded, I scorn myself, after all he had helped me and cared for me as I was still to weak after Chrysalis. This is not the first time that he sees me naked after the transformation. He knows that the hair on my head is not the only part of me that looks human now. Neverthless I fear his reactions a bit as I stripe off my underwear and trouser at the same time.

But instead he looks at the triangle of dark hair between my thighs marveling.

And suddenly it does not seem strange anymore at all to do this with him of all people, him, my loyal, intelligent, valorous, cute Lennier, and to see instead of resigned hopelessness only love and desire and such unstained luck in his eyes.

“You are so beautiful.”, escapes him marveling.

Even now. In truth. After the transformation. I smile. “You too.”

He looks away and smiles sheepishly, as if he couldn’t really believe that.

“Thank you.”

He lets his fingers slide trough the hair and ruffles my pudenda.

It feels markedly well, yet at the same time his fingers are so damn close to where I want them, and I want at the same time that he continues and that he finally touches my carem. The throbbing in my loins has almost become painful.

I only really become aware of just how wet I truly am as I feel his fingers on my sex. They slide rather over the sensitive skin than that they stroke. He grazes my carem rather by accident and I gasp for air, yet already his fingers are moved on. Of course I had not expected he would know immediately how he has to stroke me when actually for the first he time touches the holy place of a woman, but even this lets me dig my fingers into his back.

I move my hips against his hand and he dares a second, nervous gaze between my thighs. Only as he pulls back his hand I notice that one of his fingers is inside me. I barely feel it.

“Further up… no, not like this… a little bit more right…”, I manage to guide him with breathless, choked voice. “ _oh_ , there…”, I thrust my hips against his fingers, my body twitches and I fall down on the pillows, as he finally rubs my carem. The sharp throbbing hurts almost, yet the small, slight movements of his fingers are still not enough, and I press my body against them in a try to get even more pressure against my center of pleasure. Lenniers face is close to mine, eyes wide, lips half open, he breathes just as hard as I, and his body touches my flank. I feel his arousal against my hip, instinctively he rubs his loins against me. And his fingers are so wonderfully hard, sent shivers trough my body…

And then his fingers slip off and I sigh slightly, disappointed about the loss of the touch. With commands half lost in my hard breaths and appreciative sighs I guide him, and his fingers stroke sometimes hesitantly and fluttering, sometimes firmly and finally he touches my carem again.

The direct touch is completely different than exerting rather indirect pressure with both hands as when I touch myself, and the wonderful pressure feels more sharp. Lennier presses two fingers against the sensitive skin and rubs, and I thrust my hips back and forth. Shudders quiver trough my body, harder and harder. My sounds of lust blend with his hard breathing.

He changes the direction of his fingers a little bit and all of the sudden the throbbing is so intense that I arch my head back and open my mouth to a scream, but no sound escapes me.

All my muscles are tense. My body quivers uncontrollably. Still I try to raise my head, truly see how he touches me. Lenniers long, slender fingers between my thighs, the way how the muscles of his arms move when he strokes me, his gaze…

“Harder! Don’t stop…”

The sharp pressure overlays everything and finally becomes so intense that it can’t increase anymore. An throaty little whimper escapes me as the orgasm sears trough me.

Not even especially intense, yet the pressure of Lenniers fingers becomes almost uncomfortable to me, and I shove his hand away. In truth he could gladly continue, until I would have come a second, third, forth time against his fingers, but I don’t want to chance it at his first time.

“You can stop.”, I utter, and he caresses me tenderly as I still lie there to get to breathe again.

Eventually I right myself, reach for the glass of water and drink.

“Do you want too?”

He nods, and drinks in big, nervous gulps almost the whole glass, then he puts it back and looks at me expectantly.

He grins nervously and hungry. For a moment I consider to simply press him to the floor and fall down upon him – even when he probably is ashamed for that I am very sure that Lennier would find my higher position towards him and a bit dominance markedly arousing. But then I remember his nervous gesture from before. Maybe reaching forwards it slowly would even increase his anticipation.

So I sit down behind him – hair sticks on my sweaty neck – and stroke his shoulders. He turns his head to catch a glimpse of what I am doing.

I never consciously have touched his back, I realize. Scars stretch over his shoulders, they originate from the bombing assault whereby [right?] he saved me and Londo and was injured himself. Without me he would never have ended up in this situation.

Another one runs in a wide, pale bow from his shoulder blade down his back till the side of his right chest. It must be from the incident with the toxic gas from which he rescued me, Neroon and the entire crew of the ship. The doctors didn’t had enough time to apply minimal invasive methods as they removed the destroyed part of his lungs. I want that he never has to do something like this again.

The blurred blue line with the speckles that runs down his spine is broader than my own. It expands underneath my neck, between his shoulder blades, and tapers very lightly then. He gasps softly as I trace the swirls with my fingers, and then press firmer against the pale blue skin. At the same time I bend forward and kiss his neck, let my mouth wander over the tendons at the side of his neck upwards. I know how much he enjoys it to be touched at the sensitive skin directly at the blending from bone crest to normal skin. So I press my lips against the curve of bone just above his ear, feel his soft, smooth skin and the firmer, a little bit rugged surface of the bone under my lips, and follow it down to his neck. He arches his back sharply and gasps for air. I let my tongue slide alonge the edge in small, fast movements, and this time he gasps aloud, twitches – and rims the bone crest directly against my nose.

“I am… incredibly sorry Delenn, I didn’t wanted… have I hurt you?”, he stammers and turns around.

I palpate my nose. “No”, as soon as I have said that he bursts into laugher. I can’t help but laugh with him and we giggle both slightly hysterically, always ignited by the try bound to fail by the other to finally stop with the laughing.

Yet finally I reflect on why we are here, and sit in front of him. His expression becomes solem, nervous but optimistic.

“Lie down.”, I order.

He obeys directly, nevertheless I press him to the floor with soft emphasis. His gaze never leaves me for a second. He looks up to me like one looks at saints statue but not at ones naked mate who just deflowers him.

I smile, and take my time to appreciate his body. Eventually I follow the swung of his collar bone then the soft curve of his chest down. I feel the form of his muscles under my fingers. With the fingers I trace the swirls and speckles at the lower part of his chest, then I follow the hollow under his sternum down his flat, firm stomach. The swirls, already darker with arousal, become to a line down his stomach and then grow to a broadening area again that finally gets lost under the waistband of his undergarment. Hot throbbing in my linshara as I imagine how it continues. And yet a short flashing up of tentativeness. It is so long ago that I made love with one of my species for the last time…

My fingers remain over his pelvic bone for a moment, then they follow it under the fabric. His whole body tenses. He closes his eyes.

His skin is hot and so smooth.

“Raise your hip a little bit.”

He obeys, and I use it to fully pull his underwear from his body. Hungrily I follow the form of his hips with my eyes and eventually the pale blue swirls between his thighs, creating a contrast to the pale white of his skin and his slender visil’rahan. Astonishing how much his sex resembles a human penis.

With my fingers I follow the pale blue speckles and finally take his visil’rahan in my hand, only softly, not yet stroking. The blue speckles go almost up till the tip and glow against the reddish beige skin even lighter. I trace them with the other hand. His sex twitches towards my fingers. The sight sends a glowing shudder through my loins, and I gasp softly.

Finally I envelope him with both hands, feel the smooth, soft skin and the hardness underneath. Lennier arches his body towards me as I begin to move my hands up and down.

He is quiet, he does not moan or scream, yet his hard breathing, the half opened lips and the expression of self-forgotten pleasure in his face show just as distinctly how much this pleases him. Shudders run through his body, his muscles tense and relax flinching again.

My own loins hurt again from arousal. I straddle his legs and rub my hips against the firmly tensed muscle with the hope to get friction against my carem, relief. Yet even that is worth it to see him like this underneath me, to feel him. His half opened lips look very appealing and I bent forward, feel the smooth tip of his visil’rahan against my stomach as I kiss him fiercely and briefly, interrupted by our gasping for air, until I retreat, to watch him.

With the tip of my finger I stroke softly over his glans that is already wetted with fluid. This time an tense moan escapes him. I want to hear this beautiful sound again so I spread the fluid in my hand and squeeze harder. He arches his head back, convulses his face. His cheeks are reddened and the skin under his collar bone too.

“Ohhh, in Valens name…”, he sighs, and it does not seem strange at all to me that he uses the true name of Jeff, my former lover.

He moves his hips against my hands, as good as this is possible from his position. 

The movements of his wiry muscles under the pale white skin lets the pressure in my loins become almost unbearable. Even now his strength and litheness trough the material arts training show.

“Is that good like this? Firmly enough?”

His “Yes” is hardly more than an desperate gasp.

Eventually I take my right hand off him and trace first the blue speckles, then the form of his pelvic bone before I let my fingers slide to the now empty opening in which normally his visil’rahan hides. It is still wet from his anticipation. I let a finger slide inside.

Lennier becomes completely quiet. He is tighter than I am, and so hot. His muscles tighten around my finger, as I continue to move the other hand up and down his sex. My breath catches. I had not expected how damn arousing this would feel. I had not expected to ever want this again.

Gasping I press a second finger inside him, but now he stiffens and in his sharp gasp pain clearly swings with. Instantly I pull my hand back.

“I am sorry.”, shame flows trough me. Yet already with the next movement of my hand and the shudder that goes trough his body the emotion becomes already expelled by lust. His different reactions, the shudders, subtle changes in his expression and the soft sounds that escape him when I squeeze firmly sometimes, sometimes stroke only so lightly with the tip of my fingers…

He opens his eyes and stares up to me. His gaze is completely lost in his lust, and so submissive and pleading that I hardly bear to look at it. Then he already closes his eyes nervously again.

To only touch him like this and to only see the rest of his body is not enough anymore, so I bent forward and press my mouth against his neck. How the tendons feel like underneath my lips… A soft gasp, sharper, as I cup a bit skin with my teeth, nibble and suckle, and immediately after kiss the same spot only lightly. One of my strands slides over my shoulder and grazes his naked skin, and his breath catches surprised. Interesting. I move my head, so that my hair slides over his upper body again. With one hand I support myself, with the other I continue stroking his visil’rahan.

Then I move my lips deeper, following the swing of his collar bone. He has an exquisite collar bone, broad and contoured and clearly to see, but not to standing out. The skin under it is reddened, and Lennier escapes a soft “Oh Valen…”, as I let my tongue slide over the curve. Intense straining between my thighs. 

Now I kiss his chest, feel his muscles shudder under my lips. “Oh _Delenn_ …”

His breath catches as I let my tongue flutter over his nipple.

His visil’rahan grazes my skin, there is barely enough space for the movements of my other hand between it and me. I press his sex against my body, feel the smooth tip against my stomach and finally the underside of my breast. Lennier breathes in sharply as he realizes what he touches there. I lead his sex further. It feels damn good how his glans grazes my nipple.

Lennier opens his eyes wide, stares on what I do there, then his head falls back again. I squeeze harder, kiss his chest more firmly and he arches his body towards me.

He is completely tense. How he probably will look like when he finally comes? What sound will he make? Will he scream out, completely overwhelmed by the sensation? Will he shameful turn his head to the side, so that I can only see his reddened cheeks and look so innocent and pure even in this moment? Or does he look me in the eyes enraptured, my name on his lips?

He arches his head back, can barely catch enough breath, and the tendons at his neck bulge. This slender body, these wiry muscles, how he feels like… It seems as if I can’t follow with breathing.

“If that continues like this, I will come before you”

Instead of an answer I only elicit an desperate moan from him.

An intense shudder runs through his body, and I am sure that he now is ready to come, but he only sinks back on the floor. It repeats several times. I try to ignore the slowly arising cramping in my arm muscles.

“I… am sorry.”, he brings forth ashamed, “I am probably just to nervous.”

I had rather expected he would come already after some few movements of my hands, all the bottled-up lust of five years, yet I still remember vaguely how strange and unfamiliar sex was for me back then and how difficult to really accept it. Suddenly it seems strange again to do this with somebody for whom this is the first time, when I have distinctively more experience.

“You don’t have to prove anything, or reach a certain goal. It is just about what brings you pleasure, and how to treat your body. Shall I continue nevertheless?”

“Yes.”

“You can explain to me how I should touch you, or guide me.”

And I take him again, and watch the shivers that run through his body, how hard he breathes and how he contorts his face to soundless cries. He moves his hips towards my hands, presses his upper body in direction of my lips as I kiss his neck, collar bone and chest. Even like this his movements are still wonderfully powerful and lithe. At the end it is almost more the touch of his own hands than my own.

He makes no sound at all as he comes. I only feel hot liquid spill over my hands, the tension lefts his body and he sinks back on the blankets. His breathing normalizes finally.

I lie down beside him, kiss him on the forehead and can prevent a strand only in the last moment from sliding into the mess on his torso. Then I snuggle up to him. Naked and quiet we lie there and feel the warmth of the other. The throbbing in my loins subsides slowly.

Eventually I hand him handkerchiefs and begin myself to dress again while he cleans himself. How strange, that it feels despite everything we just did almost to intimate still to look at him during it. He has already slipped over his trousers and is at his robes now.

I stand up.

I had never managed to say that I love him. It always seemed to uncomplicated, to generally, to easy for all the complicated things that I feel. And even now fear presses my chest together when I think at it. Yet trough the veil of satisfaction and happiness it suddenly seems easier, possible.

Hesitantly, I go towards him, close my arms around him, and snuggle up to his bare back as he just wants to put on his robe. His movements are slow, he has to process what we have done first. But finally he snuggles closer to me.

“Lennier?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The text of the begining of the ritual is from the snippets of it from nenya-kanadkas "Coefficient of Restituion", I added the missing parts
> 
> This turned out longer than I thought
> 
> Sorry if some word choices were strange, I translated this from german. (original: https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5d31f69a00053ad6a064328/1/Naehe)
> 
> What did you think about Delenn and Lenniers ritualistic first time?


End file.
